So the mangroves are healing. After decades of relentless abuse, the tide is turning, and British conservationists are patting themselves on the back. How quaint.
One might recall that this very nation, when it pumped its industrial effluent into the Thames, once turned the river into a septic tank. And now we clap for mangroves? Let us not get carried away.
Mangrove forests are resilient; they have endured far worse than our charity galas and bicycle lanes. The real story here is not that they are recovering, but that it took us so long to stop destroying them. This is not an achievement of virtue signalling; it is a bare minimum of survival.
We are, after all, a species that only acts when the crisis is at our doorstep. If the mangroves were really in trouble, would we have waited until they were nearly gone? Yes, because that is what we do.
We cheer when the patient regains consciousness, forgetting we were the ones who ran them over. So by all means, applaud. But keep your applause measured.
The mangroves are healing despite us, not because of us.
